


Come Together

by Chaibelle



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaibelle/pseuds/Chaibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the good doctors and nurses of Arkham Asylum he was John Doe. A glimpse of a Nolan-flavored Harley and Joker, post-movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Together

_Got to be a joker  
He just do what he please_

To the good doctors and nurses of Arkham Asylum he was John Doe, differenciated from the other John Does in the system only by an ID number and a series of data points - sandy brown hair, brown eyes, facial scaring. 

To the other inmates he was The Joker to his face, on the rare occasions he was allowed out with them. When he was well out of earhsot he was Jack, Clown, Bozo, and just plain ‘Him’. The spoke of him in awe and in scorn, some times in the same breath. They’d all, even those that considered themselves his allies, long ago learned never to trust him. Within a few weeks he’d made himself the spider at the middle of all the webs. 

To one young psychiatrist, fresh from school and hungry to prove herself, he was her big break. She came to the interviews detirmined to wring enough from him to make a name for herself, maybe even write a book. He was uncooperative when she called him John, and Doctor Arkham had handed down strict instructions not to call him Joker. So she took to calling him Mr. J, and they were all happy with that.

To Harleen Quinzel he was a fascination, an obsession that started the first time she glimpsed him on the news report. She had a file folder on her computer that contained every bit of data on him that she could get her hands on, from newspaper clippings to her own interview transcripts. It was labeled ‘The Joker’ because no one from work would ever see it. Under all that makeup his insisted on he was quite handsome. On the bad nights she thought he was handsome even with the makeup.

To Harley Quinn he was her Puddin’, and she would die for him. It was weeks before anyone at Arkham drew the connection between the missing psychiatrist and the escaped inmate.

_He say I know you, you know me_  
One thing I can tell you is  
You got to be free 

Without makeup Harley was a bit horsefaced. Some highlighter and blush made her look pouty like a movie star. In a city like Gotham she hardly drew any notice at all. She perferred to cake her face in white and draw on a red smile. She liked to wear her blond hair in messy pigtails, but when her Puddin’ said to wear it up in a neat bun then she would wear it up.

Standing in line at Gotham First Bank, feeling the weight of the pistols and mask in her bag, Harley waited for the signal. Around her were tired women with energic children in tow, and men in suits and uniforms. They just went through their tired lives, not really living. Harley had tried that, and she’d decided she didn’t like it. She’d rather live on the edge where anything could happen, with Mr. J.

She never knew what the truth was with him, but she didn’t really care. Truth held her back. Yesterday she’d been a zoo keeper, today she was an elegant businesswoman. Tomorrow? Tonight? Who knew. She’d be whatever Mr. J needed her to be.

Their relationship was like a tormultous sea, the few bits of truth were like pillars that she could hold on to when things got rough. She loved him, he was crazy(like a fox), and he liked the Beatles. He’d deny it up and down if asked, but she knew he did - if one of their songs was on the radio he would hesitate before he changed the channel, and he don’t put up a huge fuss if she played them when she thought their hideout was too quiet.

That’s why she smiled when her phone started playing the bridge from Come Together. Her humming was lost in the thunder of gunfire. She ducked and pulled out her mask, slipping it on and grabbing her guns before standing again. She swept her sights across the crowd, and grinned behind her mask at the shooter in the dusty purple suit.

_He say one and one and one is three_  
Got to be good looking  
Cause he's so hard to see 

**Author's Note:**

> It's more a proto-idea, a quick sketch of an image from a song that I couldn't shake. The song is Come Together by The Beatles.


End file.
